Sweet Peanut
by terabient
Summary: An EPIC and MOVING tale of UNEXPECTED ROMANCE between a jaded con-artist and a...carnival mascot peanut? Chapter 3: Nick tries to ditch Lil Peanut, but Rochelle and Ellis have other ideas. Also, Coach is inspirational!
1. Off to a Rocky Start

**Sweet Peanut  
Chapter 1: Off to a Rocky Start**

* * *

"I do not like that little peanut man."

"Aw, c'mon Nick, Lil' Peanut is awesome!" Ellis walked up to the flimsy wooden stand and put his arm around...well, Lil' Peanut didn't have shoulders, exactly, but that sure as hell didn't stop Ellis from getting his arm around the peanut creature like it was his best friend in the world. Ellis beamed, as if hanging out with an oversized peanut in a baseball cap and overalls was, in fact, awesome, not just stupid beyond all reason. "See?"

Nick didn't see. Okay, he did understand why Ellis would like it, the two shared the same fashion sense and it was clear to Nick that Ellis had suffered some horrific childhood trauma that made him incapable of accepting dumb shit as dumb shit. But for any rational human being, Lil' Peanut was just a creepy carnival mascot whose black hole of a smile and bulging joy-filled eyes were begging to be punched.

Nick, never one to refuse an invitation, happily obliged. His fist connected with Lil' Peanut's face with a satisfying crunch, balsa wood flying everywhere. Ellis gaped at Nick in abject horror.

"Why would ya do something like that?"

"He was asking for it," Nick said, nonchalantly crushing the peanut's severed head under his dress shoes.

"Man, you are one cold-hearted sonofabitch," Ellis said, shaking his head. "All he wanted to do was make sure you was tall enough for the ride! It's like, you ain't got no soul or somethin'."

Nick rolled his eyes. He was fed up with the other survivors complaining about his "negative attitude." They were smack in the middle of a freaking zombie apocalypse, and no amount of looking on the bright side or stopping to smell the roses would change that. In fact, doing either of those things would probably get them all killed. Given that everyone else insisted on acting like kids on a field trip – making crappy, ass-fattening carnie food, playing gallery games to win an utterly useless garden gnome, or riding kiddie cars in a circle for ten minutes straight – Nick considered it his duty to rain on their parade (or in this case, carnival) if only to keep them from getting ripped to shreds by zombie clowns.

Ellis knelt down and began to pick up the remnants of Lil' Peanut. After a few moments, Nick realized Ellis meant to piece the thing together again, like it was freaking Humpty-Dumpty. He turned away in disgust.

"If one of those super-mutated zombie fuckers grab you, I'm not saving you."

Ellis didn't even look up from his Lil' Peanut rescue. "Yeah whatever, we wouldn't have this problem if you weren't such a jackass about...." Ellis paused. "...well, everything."

This being an outrageously stupid statement, even for Ellis, Nick felt no need to reply. He scanned the Kiddieland park for Rochelle and Coach, wondering what they'd gotten up to. Hopefully something useful, like killing goddamn zombies.

They were doing no such thing. Rochelle and Coach stood in front of one of the cotton candy stalls, gazing at the machine inside with a frightening intensity.

"You know, I sometimes made cotton candy for the school fair," Coach said thoughtfully, licking his lips. "I used these kinda machines before. Don't make too much noise, from what I remember."

"It's been a long time since I had cotton candy." Rochelle looked at the colorful, sun-faded photographs depicting happy families waving around clouds of the sugary treat with unabashed longing. She shifted the gnome – the goddamn gnome they'd won from that goddamn shooting gallery game Ellis had insisted they play – from one arm to the other. Nick couldn't believe she was still lugging it around. "Does sugar go bad?"

Nick decided that now would be a good time to loudly reload his assault rifle, just to remind the two of what the fuck was going on. "Doesn't matter – we need to get moving." When Rochelle turned to look at him, a pleading look on her face, Nick felt the need to add: "Cotton candy's just going to make you fat. And that gnome? Fugly as hell."

"Damn, those zombies kill your inner child or something?" Rochelle snapped. She pulled the gnome closer to her and brushed off a spot of blood and gristle from its shiny red hat – was she beating the zombies with that thing? God, was he the only sane one left?

"Don't let him bother you, Ro," Coach said, looking at Nick through narrowed, judgmental eyes. "Some people, they just born full 'a piss and vinegar."

"Jesus Christ, I can't believe you people," Nick growled, turning sharply on his heel and heading for the Kiddieland exit. They were probably going to die horribly no matter what they did, but Nick was not going to bite it while waiting for a batch of cotton candy.

"And we can't believe you, Nick," Coach said sagely. _"We can't believe you."_

"Yeah!" Ellis chimed in. He'd apparently given up the ghost of Lil' Peanut. "Did y'all know he just beat the stuffing out of Lil' Peanut? For no reason 't'all!"

"You mean that cute little mascot?" Rochelle frowned. "Aw, that is pretty mean."

Nick ground his teeth. "I hope the zombies eat you. All of you."

He stormed off. The other survivors gave each other long-suffering looks.

"Man, you'd think with a zombie apocalypse happenin', a man would loosen up a little, have some fun," Ellis said. "But he goes and kills Lil' Peanut!"

"Don't worry about it, son." Coach gave Ellis a sympathetic pat on the back. "That's on his head, not yours."

"Well, I guess we better get going," Rochelle said, giving the cotton candy stand one last, hungry look. The others nodded, and they headed towards the evacuation center.


	2. Tentative touches

**Chapter 2: Tentative Touches**

* * *

The saferoom they'd found in the Tunnel of Love was easily the most comfortable saferoom Nick had encountered. That didn't mean Nick was actually comfortable while inside it. Yeah, the floor was carpeted and there was actual lighting for once, but a thin, scratchy, confetti-colored carpet smelling vaguely like old socks and eye-searing pink-and-purple 'mood lighting' was only a small step up from plain concrete and flickering florescent strip lights.

And why was it so cold? Nick tried to suppress a shiver and drew his ruined jacket around his shoulders. They were in Georgia; wasn't there a law of nature or some shit about the weather always being balmy, no matter what the season? He was pretty fucking sure he'd read that in a travel brochure or something.

Nick tried to button up his shirt in an attempt to conserve body heat, but given that most of them were either hanging by threads or missing completely, it was a futile effort. He glanced around the saferoom, wondering if anyone else was have the same problem. It certainly didn't seem like it. Coach lay sprawled out in the center of the saferoom, snoring blissfully. Rochelle was curled up in one of the corners, her head resting on Gnome Chomski's shoulder. In the cheap neon lighting, the gnome was creepier than usual, the garish pink and purple reflecting off his plastic eyes eerily, the shadows making his mild smile almost...sinister. Nick suspected the sight would leave him with more nightmares than the zombies.

As for Ellis, he was -

Ellis was...

Ellis wasn't in the saferoom.

Nick sat up, glaring into the purple shadows as if Ellis might pop out of them at any moment. He had no idea where Ellis might have gone – hell, Nick didn't even know when or how Ellis had managed to leave the saferoom without anyone noticing him, given that subtety was not merely a word absent from Ellis' vocabulary but a concept that Ellis was mentally and physically unable to grasp. Of course, Ellis also had an uncanny knack for getting into trouble when trouble seemed impossible to be had. Maybe Ellis' unparalleled skill in getting screwed superseded his equally impressive ability to make his presence known in the most obnoxious manner possible.

Just as Nick pondered this pressing question, the door swung open with a protesting metallic shriek. Ellis walked in, hands behind his back and the biggest, most shit-eating-est grin Nick had ever seen plastered on his face – and when he noticed Nick was still awake and watching him, his grin somehow got _wider. _Nick resisted the sudden urge to shove past Ellis and run like hell.

"Hey, Nick," Ellis said brightly. "I saw you was having trouble sleeping, so I got somethin' for ya."

Nick's eyes narrowed. This sounded suspiciously like the set-up of a low-budget porn movie. "What is it, Ellis?"

Ellis pulled out a stuffed plush of Lil' Peanut with a flourish.

_Shit._

Ellis pressed the plushie into Nick's limp, unwilling hands. "Give him a squeeze," Ellis coaxed, apparently not noticing or not caring about Nick's obvious grimace. "He talks!"

Not knowing what else to do, Nick squeezed.

"I looooove you!"

Ellis beamed. Nick shuddered. Out of what he could only assume was morbid curiosity, he squeezed Lil' Peanut again.

"You're my best friend in the whole wide world!"

"Shit, he's a needy little fucker, isn't he?" Nick said, holding the peanut plushie out at arm's length.

Ellis gave Nick a Look, which Nick had learned meant Ellis was about to lecture him about not being an idiot like everyone else. "Lil' Peanut isn't needy. Just because he's brave enough to be honest with his feelings don't mean you gotta make fun of him."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever – how is an annoying peanut toy supposed to help me sleep?"

"Well, duh, Nick, don't everybody sleep better when they got a friend next to 'em? And don't say Lil' Peanut ain't your friend, 'cause he's everyone's friend. _Everyone's,_" Ellis said, nodding emphatically.

And Nick would have said something to the effect that unlike Ellis' mental development, he, Nick, was not five years old, and would most definitely not have a better sleep with Lil' Peanut – but Ellis was giving him those upsetting puppy-dog eyes, the eyes that said _I am the loneliest little boy in all of Georgia so please pretend we're buddies,_ and while Nick was proud of his asshole status, he was also not entirely heartless.

Also they were surrounded by zombies and Ellis was a dead-eyed shot with a sniper rifle, so it was in Nick's best interests to stay on Ellis' good side.

Nick grudgingly drew Lil' Peanut closer. "I guess he'll make an okay pillow."

"Lil' Peanut beats up bad dreams, you know," Ellis said suddenly. "So he's like a dreamcatcher, only more badass."

Nick stared, this being the only appropriate response to such a declaration.

"...I'm going to bed," Nick said, slowly backing away from Ellis.

"See? It's already working!" Ellis smiled, then let out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Speakin' of bedtime, I think I'm gonna hit the sack too."

"You go do that," Nick said. He went back to his corner and laid Lil' Peanut on the floor. The plush toy did turn out to be a half-decent pillow, its curved contours just right for accommodating a human head comfortably.

The only problem was the voicebox, which went off the moment Nick put his head on the toy.

"You are _wonderful!_"

"You suck at flattery, Peanut," Nick muttered, then stopped.

Was he _talking back_ to a peanut plush? God, whatever mind-disease Ellis had must be catching. Nick closed his eyes and tried to shut out everything carnival related.

"I looooove you!" Lil' Peanut chirped ominously, the declaration the last thing Nick heard before drifting into a neon-pink tinged darkness.


	3. More Than A OneNight Stand

**Chapter 3: More Than A One-Night Stand**

* * *

"Awww, isn't that sweet?"

The soft coo of Rochelle's voice roused Nick from his sleep. He rolled in the general direction of her voice, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes. When his sight was cleared, he found himself a foot away from Gnome Chompski's chilling smile.

Nick proceeded to do what any self-respecting man would do in his situation: shriek.

"Jesus, what the- get that thing out of my face! It's creepy."

Rochelle frowned, wrapping her arms protectively around the gnome. "He wouldn't be in your face if you hadn't moved, and he's not creepy. He's different."

"Are you..." Nick trailed off. There was no use in questioning the bizarre behavior of his companions at this point; they were certifiably, undeniably insane. Demanding explanations would only lead to madness. "Why are you still lugging that thing around? Seems like carrying it is more trouble than it's worth."

"Well..." Rochelle tapped her fingernails on Chompski's plastic hat in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. "I guess it's because we're alike, in a way."

Nick stared.

"See, I'm from Cleveland," Rochelle said. "I've never been this far south before, and it's just...really different. I mean, it's not just the zombies, or the collapse of civilization; it's the environment. It's so hot and muggy, and there are all these gross bugs, and the signs are weird...I feel like a fish out of water, you know?"

"Uh, I kind of feel like the whole zombie apocalypse thing would be more traumatizing than culture shock, but whatever," Nick said. He supposed it was her way of coping, or something equally useless.

"And Chompski- he's not supposed to be here either, I think." Rochelle continued as if Nick hadn't spoken. "In a carnival full of peanuts and pistachios...he's just an old-fashioned gnome looking for his garden."

"Rochelle," Nick said gently, "that is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard."

Rochelle looked positively heartbroken. Nick felt a twinge of remorse, or possibly the beginnings of food poisoning. "I thought you'd understand me, Nick. I mean, you like Lil' Peanut-"

"What the hell? It's a plush toy. A plush toy that I used as a pillow. How does this translate into liking?" He held the Lil' Peanut plush by one arm and waved it in Rochelle's face for emphasis.

"So you'll only sleep with someone if you can use them, huh?" Rochelle shook her head. "I should've guessed. You tried to ditch us at the hotel, and then you made fun of those nice people in Rayford- and when they saved us you didn't even say thanks!- and you hate cotton candy, and you're just a big dumb jerk!" She picked up Gnome Chompski and stalked away in a huff. However, given the size of the saferoom, her angry flounce came to a forced, quick end, and Rochelle's only option was to stare at the RIDE CLOSED sign in awkward silence.

Nick opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He prided himself on being able to read people, but he had no fucking idea if Rochelle was serious, or if she was just playing a really good joke. His initial reaction was to laugh, but if his failed marriage had taught him anything, it was that laughing at a woman at the wrong time would only bring misery.

Thankfully, at that moment Coach let out a jaw-cracking yawn, breaking the saferoom quiet. "Mornin', team!" He clapped his hands together, the sound waking Ellis with a start and drawing a few slavering zombies to the saferoom door. "Y'all ready to get _rescued?"_

Ellis actually _yee-haw_ed in response, an act that instantly ruined Nick's morning. "Hells yeah, I'm ready!" For emphasis, Ellis grabbed his nearby shotgun and blasted the heads off of the recently-arrived zombies. Brains and other assorted bits of body showered through the door window; a disembodied hand managed to fly far enough to smack Gnome Chompski, still in Rochelle's arms, in the nose.

"Whoa, sorry about that, Ro. Didn't mean to hit your pal there," Ellis said sheepishly. Nick threw him a disbelieving glance.

"Did you just apologize to an inanimate object?" It figured that of all the people in the world to be stuck with, he'd get the ones who heard voices in their heads. Nick believed in God approximately none of the time, but right now he was sure some higher power was punishing him.

"Don't be an ass, Nick," Rochelle replied. "Just because you were brought up with no manners doesn't mean everyone is the same."

The urge to bash his head against the wall was overwhelming.

"Hey, now, don't be gettin' all snippy at each other," Coach said. He walked over to the ammunition table and began to load his shotgun, somehow managing to look both cheerful and intimidating. "What have I told you about fighting?" He paused, as if waiting for an answer from a nonexistent class. He was met with crushing silence. "Oh, come on, everyone! We went over this at least five times in the Jimmy Gibbs!"

"Uh...is it 'Don't try runnin' over that tank?' I know I heard that one a lot," Ellis said.

"Well, no, but that's close. It's: _Don't do it,_ and the _it_ means fighting. We're a team, and a team needs chemistry, and you can't build chemistry when everyone's hatin' each other's guts." Coach finished loading his shotgun and pumped it, the click punctuating his last words. "So _cut it out_ and _roll out!_"

"That's cute, Coach, did you spend all night thinking of that one?" Nick dropped Lil' Peanut on the floor and picked up his assault rifle.

"Shut up, Nick," Coach said calmly. "I don't give a shit about you givin' me shit, so's you can save your breath for our nice, completely platonic stroll through the Tunnel of Love."

"Do I even need to point out how gay that sounds?"

Coach, true to his word, ignored Nick. "Okay, I'm thinking, this is a small ride, so there ain't gonna be any tanks. Everyone agree?"

He was met with a resounding _eeeeeeeeeehhhhhh._

"You kids are a bunch of party-poopers." Coach shook his head sadly. He opened the saferoom door, a squishy crunch filling the air as the big man stepped on the dead bodies on the ground. Rochelle followed, still holding Gnome Chompski. At least she was still carrying her gun, Nick noticed with some relief. Ellis stood in the doorway, waiting for Nick.

"Let's go, Overalls," Nick said, trying to push past the other man. Ellis continued to block the exit.

"Aren't you gonna take Lil' Peanut?" Ellis pointed to the plushie lying forlornly against the wall.

Nick's hands tightened around his assault rifle. _I am not going to shoot him I am not going to shoot him Don't Do Fighting._ "Uh, no?"

"Well, he helped you sleep, so I think you should bring him along. Because sleepin' is good, and also Lil' Peanut deserves to be saved, y'know? Plus," Ellis said, walking over to the plush and picking it up, "he's easy to carry." Ellis stuffed the toy into Nick's shirt. "See? Now, you're stylin'!"

"You're wearing a shirt you made in high school, and coveralls. You are not even allowed to think the word styling." Nick grimaced at the toy just below his chin. One night's pillow duty had made it distinctly more disgusting; it had dirt spots and smelled a little like old sweat.

"I'm sure kids will like it," Ellis protested. "I betcha there's going to be lots of kids in the safe zone, so you should keep 'em."

_I'm pretty sure most of the kids in the world are dead,_ Nick thought, but that would likely cause Ellis to cry and possibly faint from shock, and Nick would be stuck carrying him. By contrast, keeping a dirty, mouthy plush toy in his shirt was not a bad idea. "Um. Sure. Let's go."

Beaming, Ellis followed Nick into the Tunnel of Love.


End file.
